Page 15 of Her Soul for a Crown
Anula blinked the memory away.
“It was no accident, Anula. You were meant to survive.”
“Why?” The question was soft as a whisper.
“Justice,” Auntie Nirma said, the word bold and strong. It tingled the back of Anula’s neck. “You were chosen to carry out a further purpose. I’ve spent my whole life cultivating allies. Together,we must make it count. We can change the kingdom for good, in their name, for their justice and the justice of all others forevermore.”
Anula sat, slowly.
Auntie Nirma leaned forward. “You’ve asked after my allies and enemies. We are women working for the good of the kingdom, creating change through open pathways and deals struck in the night. Only recently have our sights turned farther than our village borders.”
“So, the secret meetings you have…”
“Are to end the Age of Usurpers and put a true leader on the throne. One whom Anuradhapura deserves. One who will begin a new age, an age of peace and prosperity for all.”
A chill slid down Anula’s spine. “One who cares for more than power?”
Auntie Nirma nodded.
“But…you’re women.”
“Who know how to bide time and bend rules.”
The words were sticky in Anula’s mind. An entire network of women bound to the belief that the Heavens were helping them, guiding them—and the idea that she had a role to play, that she could make something good come from what had happened to her family—made no sense. Because the Heavens didn’t answer. Auntie Nirma was playing this game alone.
It would never work.
“Anula,” Auntie Nirma said sternly, leveling a sharp gaze. “Why do you think you survived?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was smaller than she expected.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to sulk your entire life, or are you going to ensure that your parents’ deaths weren’t for nothing? Because I am. Will you help me?”
Anula bit her lip, staring at the book. It was a far-fetched scheme, but her auntie was right. What was she going to do with her life now? What would Amma do? No. She couldn’t ask that, because Amma couldn’t do anything. Nor could Thaththa. Nor the entire village.
That was the point.
Prophet Ayaan. Commander Dilshan. Raja Mahakuli Mahatissa.
Anula straightened her shoulders and met Auntie Nirma’s eyes. “Yes. Who have you chosen as the new raja?”
Auntie Nirma smiled. “Who said anything about a raja?”
“Then who—” Anula stood. “Areyouwanting to be a raejina?”
“Of course not. My pathway is not clear.”
Auntie Nirma’s eyes twinkled as she led them to the secret door. It was in the middle of the hallway, a panel that sprang back when leaned on. Inside was a room with a low table in the center, long enough for a dozen to sit. Books lined the walls, a library of hidden texts only men penned and men read. But here, women studied pages on flowers and trees and poisonous animals, learned of all the rajas past, analyzed the most prosperous rice paddy farms and hakuru harvesters, tracked Polonnaruwa’s movements, and honed their knowledge into weapons. Not to kill but to grow.
“Nothing worth wanting is had easily, girl.” Auntie Nirma’s voice cut sharply, pulling Anula’s gaze from the shelves. “Are you committed to your pathway or not?”
Voices buzzed in her ears. The voices of her village. The ones three men deemed unimportant enough to sacrifice. It didn’t matter if Anula believed the Heavens’ hand in it. She believed in Auntie Nirma’s conviction and the justice deserved. She pressed Uncle Manoj’s journal to her chest. “Yes.”
“Good.” Auntie Nirma dropped a stack of books on the table. “If you do this right, songs will be sung about you.”
